Seashell
by Tanoshimi
Summary: The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Ludwig and Gilbert can reunite. How will their first meeting since Gilbert left go? Rated T for some profanity. Requested fanfictions included inside.
1. Chapter 1

Hey there! I've been pretty inactive lately, with regards to writing, so this came up after I listened to a couple of songs. Speaking of songs, you will see that I've used a few references to a particular song in this fic. I'd like to make an offer (because I'm kind of at a standstill right now). To the **first three reviewers** who guess the song correctly, I will write a Hetalia fanfiction for each. **Posted here, any characters, any genre, just nothing that would be rated M**. So, here are the guidelines for a qualified review:

_The song and the band_

Pretty simple, right? And if you want, you can include the request preferences in your review.

* * *

It was a quiet, calm night. Ludwig walked along the beach with his jacket draped over his shoulders, watching the tides roll in and out. His boots made imprints in the loose sand. A trail of footprints led from the fringe of bushes around the beach to the lapping surf, next to a figure sitting on the shore. The moon framed two dark silhouettes against the ground; one with its head facing towards the silver waves, the other looking at the clandestine sky. There was silence for a few moments, as nature wove its alluring spell. Presently, a deep baritone voice slipped out.

"Aren't you cold?" Ludwig finally turned to Gilbert. The moon highlighted his brother's silver hair as he glanced at the blonde.

"You learn to deal with it when you're around Ivan." Nevertheless, Ludwig pulled off his jacket and covered Gilbert's slight frame with it. Wearing the green military coat, his older brother looked even thinner and paler. Seeing him like that made Ludwig grit his teeth. He crouched down next to Gilbert.

"So Germany is officially unified today," he marveled quietly. His only reply was the roaring of the ocean. Realizing what unification and the destruction of the Berlin Wall meant to his sibling, he gazed at him imploringly. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. About everything. It's entirely my fault; I shouldn't have followed my boss' orders." When he still did not answer, Ludwig looked away sorrowfully. Cold, slender fingers suddenly turned his face back to its original position. Gilbert's crimson eyes were brimming with…anger.

"What the fuck do you think you'll get out of blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault? I was there too, West." He looked away bitterly. "I did this to myself."

"_Bruder_, I was the one who—"

"Stop fucking trying to make me feel better!" His fist smashed onto the ground, creating a virtually soundless _thud. _Gilbert withdrew his hand, muttering petulantly, "Damn this sand. Can't even put an emphasis on my words…" With those simple statements, the tension in the air dissolved. The brothers embraced each other.

"_Gott_, I missed you, West," Gilbert whispered brokenly, clutching Ludwig. His brother held him tightly.

"Home just wasn't the same without you there. It felt too empty," Ludwig murmured. They drew apart.

"I realized something while I was slaving away under Ivan." Gilbert paused, leaning back on his elbows. "We didn't have enough time together, you and I." Ludwig quirked an eyebrow at him. He caught his look. "Don't tell me you didn't think of your big brother while he was away."

"Well, of course I did. I understand what you mean. So…what were you thinking of when we were apart?" His usually verbose sibling was quiet. Pondering the question, Gilbert settled for,

"You. And…the times we had together."

"Like when?"

"Well, remember when you were just a kid, and I was your awesome role model?" Ludwig nodded grudgingly. "And we tried to sign on with the crew of some trade ship?"

"When we asked them, they laughed in our faces and told us to go home."

"They weren't laughing so much after I kicked their asses."

"All I remember is you shouting profanities at the captain and then diving off the side of the ship."

"I was trying to show them that I wouldn't take their crap!" The two erupted into laughter. When they had calmed down, Gilbert said softly, "I was also thinking about times like this. Just the two of us, enjoying ourselves together." Ludwig looked at him tenderly. He then spied a bulge in the sand and rose to examine it. In brushing away the loose layer on top, he uncovered a perfect conch. The other man walked over to his side.

"What do you have there, West?"

"A seashell." It was quite large and smooth. "I remember that when I was young, you told me to hold the openings of seashells to my ear. Then I would be able to listen to the ocean like I was in…"

"An underwater room," they finished in unison. Gilbert laughed.

"I was so awesome back then, caring for you like that. Preußen, the greatest kingdom in Europe—"He stopped abruptly. His face suddenly seemed much older. As his brother turned towards the shadows, Ludwig heard him mutter,

"But not anymore." The guilt rushed back full force.

"I'm so sorry—"

"Hey! What did I say about blaming yourself?" Gilbert whipped around, glaring at him. He then broke into a half smile. "Anyway, I'm part of the most powerful nation in the world now. You've made me proud, _bruderlein._" Ludwig swelled with pride. Those words were equivalent to the Iron Cross that his brother had given him long ago. To hide the grin slowly permeating his face, he turned towards the ocean and watched the ship lights. The other man did so as well. Together they counted the little patches of brightness until the night grew old. It was then that Ludwig said,

"We'd better head back. It's getting late."

"Yeah. Gotta rest up for tomorrow; I expect that there'll be tons of people waiting to welcome me back." Ludwig smiled at Gilbert and allowed him a head start. Lifting the conch he still held to his ear, he listened for the roaring of waves. It rushed out immediately like it had so many years ago, singing sonorously. It was indeed as if he was in a subaqueous grotto. A place where all was right, his brother had returned, and Germany was whole. Ludwig walked quickly to catch up to Gilbert. The seashell was left behind on the sand. And there it remained, waiting for another chance to witness the reunification of other hopeful wishers.

* * *

It's corny, but please tell me what you thought about it! And for the contest too.


	2. My Love, My Life

As promised, here is the fanfiction for one of the first reviewers to guess the song:

**Winner: **Lady Charity

**Pairing: **Prussia x Hungary

**Song used: **"Always" by Switchfoot

**Title: **My Love, My Life

Hope you like it!

* * *

"Hey." A pair of red eyes glared at Hungary from where he sat. He immediately jumped to his feet.

"Yeah?" His companion crossed his small arms over his chest, covering most of the black cross emblazoned on his white mantle.

"It's my birthday, idiot." Hungary was unfazed.

"What about it, Teutonic Order?"

"Why, you…" Before he had a chance to register it, the State of the Teutonic Order had tackled Hungary to the ground. The two small bodies rolled in the dirt, each vying for dominance. Their scuffle ended when Teutonic Order banged his head on a rock. He stared resentfully at the snickering Hungary, rubbing at the sore spot all the while. Presently, all traces of laughter disappeared, and the two lay on their backs side by side. It was a sunny day, with blue skies and white clouds. Each boy felt his heart beat in tune to the song of the birds. Teutonic Order huffed.

"I can't believe you forgot that it was my birthday, of all things." He sat up for emphasis, gesticulating wildly. "This was the day when I was formed. It was the start of me!" The boy flung out his arms exasperatedly. Hungary propped himself up.

"First of all, I didn't forget that it was your birthday." Smirking at Teutonic Order's outraged expression, he continued, "Secondly, I decided to give you a gift." At that, his friend perked up a bit.

"What is it?"

"I decided to give you…" He paused for suspense. Teutonic Order grew increasingly curious and inched closer. _Yes? _he mouthed. Seeing the small boy crouched on all fours while gazing at him almost made Hungary laugh.

"I decided to give you… the benefit of not being beaten up by me for a whole day." There was a moment of silence before a scream emerged from Teutonic Order's lungs, ripping out of his throat.

"YOU BASTARD!"

* * *

They were standing next to each other with the Iron Curtain before them. Neither dared to move, lest the other objected to it. Prussia was the first to speak.

"Much obliged," he said, and his tired face lit up with a smile. Hungary tossed her head.

"I'm opening my part of the curtain for the sake of everybody. Not just you." His raspy chuckle filled the air.

"You haven't changed one bit since the curtain first went up." She looked at him incredulously.

"Did you expect me to?" Prussia shrugged.

"Anyway, I'd better get going. I've got to see West at least one more time before the Soviet Union drags me back again." He looked at her expectantly until she finally relented. Sliding open the fence that was the Iron Curtain, she told him,

"Go. Quickly." The man needed no second bidding, as he dashed off towards Austria. Hungary stared after him. She clutched the fabric of her pants tightly. _Hurry, you don't have much time. _The Soviet Union would notice the absence of East Germany soon. Contrary to her prior sentiments, she now felt the urge to help the renegade nation.

"Good luck." Her whisper was borne away by the wind.

* * *

When Germany opened the door, he did not expect to see Hungary on his front steps.

"Hungary. Er, is there something that you need?" he asked while searching surreptitiously for her tell-tale camera. It did not seem to be on her person. She smiled brightly and said,

"I need to see Prussia. Is he in?"

"Yes. I think he's showering right now, though. Can I take a message?"

"Actually, I need to see him in person. May I wait here?" Her tone of voice conveyed that refusal was not an option. Grudgingly, Germany opened the door for her.

"I'll tell him that you're here."

"Thank you." Hungary had just taken a seat on one of the straight backed chairs when he returned.

"My brother says that he will be down shortly." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Please excuse me; I have to go. Make yourself at home." As he hurriedly departed, she wondered if he was trying to avoid the possible fracas that could occur between her and Prussia. Hungary was left to herself. The minutes ticked by, and she grew increasingly irritated. After half an hour had passed with the man nowhere to be seen, she realized that waiting was pointless and marched up the stairs. She knocked sharply on Prussia's door. By then, her temper had flared to the extreme. When he still did not answer after fifteen consecutive knocks, Hungary finally forced open the door.

"There's this new thing called privacy. Ever heard of it?" He was sitting on his bed rubbing a towel on his hair, much to her chagrin. She crossed her arms.

"Germany said that you would 'be down shortly' over thirty minutes ago."

"It was an approximation. How was I supposed to know that showering would take me so long?" Hungary seethed at him.

"How typical of you. Unable to estimate and unable to stop being a churl."

"I'm not a churl!"

"Oh, really? I suppose that keeping a lady waiting is your idea of chivalry." She wrinkled her nose. "As well as appearing in front of her without a shirt."

"I didn't have the chance to put one on because a crazy psychopath kicked open my door! How's that for manners, hypocrite?" He looked at her indignantly. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Anyway, I'm here for the money from our last bet. Hand it over." Prussia winced.

"Damn, I was hoping that you forgot about that. Hold on. I have to look for my wallet." He threw the towel onto the bed and rummaged around his desk. Hungary kept looking in the direction of his bare torso. She blushed. _Get a hold of yourself, Elizaveta. It's Gilbert, for crying out loud! _Too soon, he turned around and glimpsed her pink cheeks.

"Do you have a fever of something?" He frowned. "If it's H1N1, don't come near me."

"N-No, you idiot. I don't have H1N1." She looked away. Prussia cocked an eyebrow at her before snatching the elusive wallet out of his coat pocket.

"There you are." He plopped down on the couch. "How much do I owe you?"

"One hundred forints." His eyes widened.

"You're kidding."

"Of course not. Why would I?" Cursing under his breath, he counted out the money. Hungary's struggle to refrain from staring at his chest was becoming fruitless. "Put on a shirt, will you?"

"You were fine with it when we were kids."

"I—Things were different back then," she protested.

"Meaning that you thought you were a boy." She colored.

"Shut up." He paused in his counting to smirk at her.

"You can't deny it." Prussia resumed his work. "Don't be a prude like Austria."

"Don't talk about him like that!" There was righteous anger in her voice. "Austria is a better person than you could ever hope to be."

"Really? Because if I was married to somebody, I wouldn't be the one to call for a divorce." Hungary instantly tensed up. When she spoke, her voice was pure venom.

"Don't you dare bring that up again." Prussia sensed that she was incredibly furious and silently sifted through his wallet. Time passed in quietude. Presently, the man shoved the forints at her.

"Here. I'm sorry," he grunted. Hungary put them on the table in front of the couch, then sat down gingerly. She stared at her hands. Suddenly, she looked at him.

"How did you get all of those scars?"

"What scars?" Prussia asked absent-mindedly as he snapped his wallet shut.

"These." The sensation of her fingers running over his back served to make him flinch. Hungary quickly withdrew her hand. Prussia placed his wallet on the table, refraining from looking at her.

"You should know about at least one of them. That one in the middle." She scrutinized it and then gasped softly.

"Is it…"

"That's right. From the War of the Austrian Succession." He remembered vividly the cold metal of her blade slicing into his flesh. Meanwhile, Hungary battled with the feelings of guilt rising up in her. _Why should I feel guilty? I was helping Austria. _To distract herself, she contemplated her companion's other scars. The largest one was on the left side of his back. It was roughly where his heart was. She touched it tentatively.

"What about this one?" Prussia did not answer immediately. His eyes took on a faraway look, as if he was thinking about some other time period. He righted himself and pulled on a black shirt, then sat back down. Finally, he sighed and hunched over.

"It was after the war. When I… was abolished." He still refused to look at her. Despite herself, Hungary watched him sadly. She found herself wanting to know how being abolished had felt. Prussia seemed to read her mind.

"The sensation wasn't pleasant. It was like…" He paused, trying carefully to choose the right words. "Like my soul was ripping out of all the places I'd ever been wounded."

"That's horrible. And for your own brother to allow that..."

"He didn't want it to happen! West's not a bad kid." Prussia turned to her at last, smiling wryly. "But he is just a kid nonetheless." He had a serious face on; something that Hungary realized that she liked. She drew closer to him.

"Then I guess that the topic of being part of Germany is off limits," she murmured. Prussia suddenly lit up with a fierce dignity.

"I'll always be Prussia. I was born into this role, and I will never be anything else!" he announced proudly. But his companion could detect the uncertainty behind his façade. Gingerly, she reached out to touch his shoulder. He looked at her, puzzled.

"Eliza—Hungary?" he hastily corrected. It was undeniable now that she wanted to hear her name coming from his lips.

"You can call me Elizaveta…if you want," she told him gruffly. He looked a little amused.

"Okay, Elizaveta. Actually, I don't think I will call you that. It doesn't have the same ring as psychopath or madwoman."

"Hey!" she protested and flicked him on the forehead. Tried to, anyway. Before her finger could connect with his skin, Prussia had leaned forward and kissed her. For a moment she froze; then her instincts took over and she pushed him away. He merely watched her.

"Wh-What are you doing? Hungary asked shakily, trying to regain her composure.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to kiss you."

"I know that!" she snapped. "But—"

"But what?" he retorted. Then, more gently, he said, "You're not with Roderich anymore, Elizaveta. It's time to let go." When he took her in his arms and kissed her again, she did not object.

Because he was right. Austria was no longer hers and she was not with anyone else at the moment, so why resist?

As their mouths melded together, something gave way in her. The scars in her heart suddenly became wounds again. They ripped open and bled and tears were somehow slipping from her eyes, coursing down her face. Prussia pulled her into him, letting her cry into his shoulder. They remained in that position for a long time. Gradually, Hungary stopped shaking. She slumped into Prussia's embrace. The man stroked her hair lightly. Neither of them spoke until,

"We didn't plan for it to happen. The divorce, I mean." Her voice was barely audible. "But things just got so bad that we…we thought that it would be better for the both of us if we maintained our own countries."

"So he was trying to protect you?" Hungary tried to smile.

"I'd like to think so. That he was trying to prevent me from totally collapsing." Prussia snorted.

"Someone like that would have been pretty useful around the time I was being abolished. Then I wouldn't have to keep thinking that every breath is a second chance."

"A second chance?"

"I could have disappeared entirely, you know. Had West not held his boss back at the last moment, I wouldn't be here right now." The woman looked at him tenderly.

"Then I might as well say hallelujah that you still exist." She pressed her lips against his, instigating a kiss for the first time. But it was he who decided to deepen it. Their tongues clashed, and her hands sifted through his silvery hair. They pulled apart after a few breathless moments, panting heavily. Prussia held Hungary's hands in his.

"I've never been tied down before, but I'm willing to give that up. Every breath I take, every scar on my body; it's all yours." She averted her eyes.

"Gilbert, I can probably never love you like I loved Roderich."

"We'll work on that."

"I can be stubborn and cranky sometimes." He laughed.

"Don't I know it? I'm a wretched man, falling in love with the likes of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"she growled playfully.

"Nothing. Just be careful that my awesomeness doesn't leave you star-struck."

"You can try!" After years of harboring sadness, Hungary found the sensation of happiness to be foreign. She grinned. Prussia rejoiced internally that a smile finally graced her features again.

"So, do you want to test out a relationship?" he asked softly. His companion appeared to ponder over it. She then nodded.

"I want to."

"Yeah!" The man jumped up, returning to his usual cocky self. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me."

"Don't be conceited, Beilschmidt. It's a wonder that I said yes to you."

"Admit it, woman! Even you were swept away by my awesome self!" Her green eyes flashed dangerously.

"What did you say?"

* * *

Germany fished out the keys from his pocket. He opened the door, fully expecting his brother to pounce on him while complaining loudly of boredom. What he did not anticipate were the discordant sounds of a full blown fight, complete with yells and the crashing of breaking objects. The man sighed. Why did it have to happen today of all days, when he had just spent the last few hours filling out paperwork? He never thought that he would look to Italy for inspiration, but…

Germany edged towards the door, slipping out. He tried to close it as quietly as he could. Relieved that he had managed to avoid another dispute involving Prussia (that would probably lead to some serious stomachaches for himself), he quickly walked away from his house. Perhaps Feliciano would let him stay a night at his place. As soon as the click of the closing door was heard from his room, Prussia told Hungary,

"I think he's gone now." His companion rolled her eyes.

"Remind me why we just scared your brother out of his house?"

"I wanted some more time to ourselves." He drew her close, pulling them both down onto the couch. "Besides, West would freak if he knew a _girl _was here."

* * *

Even though I don't really like this pairing, writing this was still sort of fun. Please tell me what you think of it!


	3. Melt

Second one is up!

**Winner: **Starlight Amethyst

**Pairing: **America x Belarus

**Title: **Melt

*Warning- Some Russia bashing in America's POV (this is after the collapse of the Soviet Union). I personally love Russia; he's so cute! So, no offense intended.*

Here you go!

* * *

"Oh, Natalia!" Belarus looked up from the desk. She put down the paper she was reading and waited. A millisecond later, America smashed into her room. He didn't just enter the place; he smashed into it with all of the exuberance he had in him. Belarus took it as a sign of his extra high spirits today. What had made him so happy?

"Natalia, Natalia, Natalia!" he exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly.

"Yes, America?" He looked deflated for a moment.

"You can call me Alfred." Then he perked up again. "Look at what I got for you!" He brandished a brown paper bag at her face. The woman took it gingerly. Inside was a new bow and something wrapped in paper. She admired the bow, cradling it in her hands. The white satin was silky smooth.

"Thank you." Belarus was unaccustomed to such kindness. America was practically bursting with joy.

"Do you like it?"

"I do, very much."

"Why don't you try it on?" She complied, taking off the old bow in her hair and replacing it with the new one. Her companion eyed it with satisfaction. "You look really nice, Natalia. Now look at the other thing I got you; it's even better!" With a faint blush, she took out the paper wrapped object. It was strangely soft. Taking off the covering, she found… a hamburger.

"What did I tell you? Isn't it great?" If he hadn't just given her a beautiful new bow, she would have rolled her eyes at him.

The relationship between Belarus and America was like that of a person and a mouse. As one tried to get closer, the other shied away. At least, until one could penetrate the timidity of the other and save her from despair. That was America's motivation for befriending Belarus. He had taken her under his wing after the dissolution of the Soviet Union (served the communist bastards right) and was slowly trying to work his way into her heart. Hence the gifts he was perpetually trying to give her and the conversations he was always trying to have. At first, the woman hadn't like him much. She would give him polite, distrusting glances when they happened to bump into each other. But due to his chivalrous and all around heroic deeds, Belarus now seemed to be opening up more. Just the other day, she had smiled at him! Well, it was a small one and he had just slipped on a banana peel, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered. Now he was embarking on his latest attempt to turn her to the light of outgoingism.

"Natalia!" he sang through her door. "Are you ready to explore America?" They were going on a road trip around the country. From within the room came Belarus' cold, elegant voice.

"Almost, America."

"Alfred," he whined, and then stopped himself because it wasn't heroic. "Anyway, I'll be waiting out here." He though he heard a sigh but brushed it off as a figment of his imagination. Eventually, she emerged, clad not in her usual dress but in a pretty blouse and a skirt. There was a light dusting of pink on her cheeks. The new bow was perched on her head. America looked at her, astonished.

"You look…very pretty today." Everyday actually, but it was especially evident right now. He was suddenly very aware of his plain white T-shirt and jeans. Offering his arm gallantly, he escorted her down the stairs. When they were in the car he started the ignition with a flourish.

"Let the party begin!"

America was a queer person. He was unusually happy all of the time. He insisted on playing the part of the hero perpetually. He had taken in the sister of his Cold War enemy. But queerest of all was that he was genuinely excited to explore his country (and in a tourist kind of way, which was odd for anyone to do in his own home) in a small, cramped car, accompanied only by a quiet and intimidating young woman who traveled with a knife in her bag. They made an odd pair on the road. As he drove, America whistled. Belarus looked at him discreetly.

"Why are you so cheerful?" she inquired. He laughed.

"Because today's a great day! The sun is shining, the birds are singing…and we're traveling around America together!" He was incredibly optimistic. She liked his rose-colored outlook on life. The woman nodded and turned her attention to the scenery. They were passing acres of raw land, coated with green and dotted with spring flowers. Although they had been driving for quite a while, Belarus found that she did not mind a bit. It also helped that her companion was the farthest thing from boredom. And so, they endeavored to work their way through the main landmarks of fifty states.

Everything worked out wonderfully at first. They passed through the White House, breezed past the Liberty Bell, and were now on the ferry to Ellis Island. Belarus looked out on the gray water lapping at the sides of the ship. She had actually been to the immigration center many times already; at least, in spirit alongside those of her people who had immigrated to America. Physically standing on Ellis Island sent simultaneous shivers of excitement and dread up her spine. Passing immigrants and officials glanced at the pale, pretty young woman who was watching them with curiosity. Unconsciously, America stepped closer to her.

"So, Natalia, this is Ellis Island, the entryway for those who want to reside in the land of the free and the home of the brave!" He spread his arms out as if to encompass everything in them. Belarus thought that he looked rather heroic then, with the golden sun glancing off his hair and glasses. His expression was one of pure happiness at being among others. She averted her eyes to fight off the unfamiliar feelings rising up in her. The gigantic green figure at the island's center gazed genially into the distance. America caught her looking at it.

"Do you want to check out the inside? There's a great view at the top too." She nodded hesitantly.

"Okay." He took her hand (completely missing her reddened face) and guided her to the apex of the Statue of Liberty. There, she looked about her in wonder. Everything was so small down below. Birds were tiny white dots on the water. The people were moving around like so many ants. America watched her long hair blow in the wind and fought off the urge to run his fingers through it. She wasn't his, anyway.

It was when they were once again driving on the road that he realized he had to act quickly. Belarus was sleeping, most likely tired out by the day's travels. He looked at her fondly. Her blue eyes were closed, her pink lips pressed together lightly. America frowned. Letting this beautiful creature go back to the cold snows of Russia was sacrilege. She would freeze there, alone and unloved. Hell, she _had_ frozen there, and he was now trying to thaw her out. His McCarthyist sentiments flamed up until he was seething with anger. What did she see in that cold-hearted ass Ivan anyway? He didn't even feel for her, not like America did. The blonde came to the conclusion that winning Belarus was infinitely important. And not just for the good of democracy; it was for the both of them as well. He felt that he was the only one who could pull her out of the iceberg that she was enclosed in. And the way to do that was through this road trip. The plan was simple: show Belarus the best of America and convince her that he was the one to be with. Smugly, he found vacant rooms at an inn and woke his companion. Everything would work out perfectly.

And it did, for a time. The two passed through a majority of the states with no problems. Belarus seemed to take a great interest in the country. She was even starting to smile. Then, as they were making their way along a dusty road in Arizona, the car suddenly broke down.

"No, no," America moaned as his Ford ceased moving. "Not now!" Belarus seemed indifferent. After a few moments of fiddling with the engine, the blonde plopped down on the side of the road. His companion inquired,

"Has the car broken down entirely?"

"Guess so." He looked up at her with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry our trip had to end this way."

"It wasn't your fault." America stood up and dusted off his jeans. The night was encroaching steadily. He walked over to Belarus' side.

"Are you cold?"

"No. The temperatures in Europe are far worse than this." Nevertheless, he draped his bomber jacket over her shoulders. Then he contacted the nearest authorities. Snapping his cell phone shut after the brief conversation, he told the woman,

"They said that it'll take up to thirty minutes 'til they can get us. For now, I guess we'll have to wait here." She nodded. America's grin faltered. "I'm really sorry for this, Natalia. The trip seemed like a good idea at first." They stood in silence for a few moments. The man cleared his throat.

"So, when do you have to get back to your place?" he asked quietly. Belarus hesitated.

"My brother sent me a letter asking me to hasten my return. He said that he needed my support." Her affection for the Russian was evident in her eyes. America felt a pang of something like jealousy. She had been broken after the Soviet Union's collapse, and he had helped her piece her life back together. And what had Russia been doing? Wallowing in self-pity and mourning the fall of his Communist government. He inquired, trying to remain indifferent,

"Will you go back earlier?"

"I…think that I should. Maybe a few days from now." Was that reluctance he detected in her voice?

"You know, he still has Ukraine."

"…Yes. However, I feel that it is my duty to go back." The other turned away to mask his bitterness. By and by, he felt something land gently on his shoulder. It was Belarus' hand. Her face was…almost regretful. "Thank you for welcoming me to your country with such kindness. And for helping me through difficult times. I enjoyed my stay." He smiled, taking her small hand in both of his.

"It's been great to have you here." There was sadness in his blue eyes. "I don't want you to go." Belarus turned away, but America's calloused fingers directed her face back to him. "But since you have to, I want to tell you something." He paused. "Or maybe I should just show you." So there, underneath the dusky Arizona sky, he gently placed a kiss on Belarus' lips. Her eyes widened. Had it been any other man, she would have reached for her knife. But now, she moved to grip the American's arms, and then slid her hold onto his shoulders. He grinned against her lips. Pulling away, he murmured,

"I really like you, Natalia." She was speechless for a moment.

"I…I suppose that I do too. Alfred." His smile then seemed like it could light up the night sky. He gathered her close.

"You'll see. I'll make these last days you have in America the best! I'll introduce the wonders of ice cream to you. And you have to see how we celebrate April Fool's Day…It'll be great!" As the happy-go-lucky American chattered on, the stars witnessed the icy walls around Belarus gradually melt into rivers of moonlight. And she smiled.

* * *

Er, I wasn't really sure how to write this pairing. I've never done it before. Interesting one, though. I tried to write it as well as I could, but...I'm really sorry if it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to! Please tell me what you think of it, anyway. I want to know how I can improve. :)


	4. Unwanted

This is the third and final request.

**Winner: **boredandwaiting

**Pairing: **Spain x Romano

**Title: **Unwanted

Probably not as much fluff as you had wanted, but I hope you can still enjoy it! And sorry for the generic title.

* * *

The first thing that Spain noticed upon returning to his home was a figure on his veranda. Of course, this was a nightly occurrences (people of all kinds frequently visited) and in no way fazed him. So he made his way to his front door.

"Good evening."

"Evening. Took you long enough to get here, bastard." Spain laughed.

"Come in, Romano." The shadow figure stepped into the light, revealing his familiar scowl. He looked at the house.

"Why are you living in this old hut again?"

"Times are hard," Spain explained, scrutinizing the peeling paint on his house. "I had to cut back on my spending and move back here." When they entered, he hung his coat on the dilapidated rack and loosened his tie. "I expected Prussia or even France tonight, but not you. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I—I ran out of tomatoes. Anyway, why are you still hanging around with those idiots?" Romano's stuttering was that of someone making up a hasty excuse.

"They're friends!" Spain said lightheartedly. He walked into the small kitchen, followed by the other nation. "What do you want to eat tonight?"

"I don't care." There was a scraping of chair legs on the floor, then a screech as the legs were pulled back in place. Then—"Got any wine?"

"Of course." Spain retrieved the Cabernet Sauvignon from the pantry and presented it with a flourish. From his place at the kitchen table, Romano raised an eyebrow.

"French wine? Tacky."

"France sent it to me for Christmas." The wine glasses were brought and Romano poured a generous amount of red liquid into each. Spain reassumed his position in front of the stove. "Paella, then."

"What? No steak, no lamb?"

"I don't think I have any of that in the house right now."There was a grumbling from behind that went along the lines of "It figures that you wouldn't." Spain didn't mention that he hadn't had steak or lamb in the house for a while. After all, he didn't want Romano to worry about his failing economic state. He finished making the paella and served it. "So, what brings you here?"

"I can't check up on you from time to time? Without me, you'd be a mess." The Spaniard laughed.

"Isn't that true!" Neither man acknowledged that Romano had not visited in months. "How's your brother?"

"Fine. As oblivious as ever. As clingy as ever."

"To Germany?"

"Who else?" Romano spooned some rice into his mouth and chewed, looking pensive. After a while he stated, "So, I did come here for a reason."

"You said you were running out of tomatoes?"

"No! Well, yes, but I can always run to the fruiter's for that. It was an excuse, idiot. I wanted to ask you something." He put down his spoon.

"What's that?"

"Well—wipe that goddamn smile off you face, this is serious!—well, um… how do I put this…" Romano trailed off. "Okay, um… if you had the choice between a white dog and a black dog—no, never mind. If—if you had to choose either a big house or a small house—no, that doesn't work either. How about… if there were two tomatoes, a perfectly round one and a deformed looking one, and they both tasted the same and were generally the same size, well… which one would you pick?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"Just—just answer it!" Romano churned out, flustered. There seemed to be a knowing sparkle to Spain's eyes.

"Well…I think I would choose the deformed looking one. Perfection is nice, but if it's admired so much then is it so special anymore? That's not to say that it's bad, but… I think imperfect things have more flavor and variety to them. They're more interesting. Don't you agree, _tomatito_?" Romano understood and growled half heartedly.

"You knew what I was really talking about all along."

"Yes," Spain admitted, reaching over to take the other's hands. "Do you still think that Veneciano is better than you?"

"No, of course not," Romano sniffed. "I just wanted to know your opinion on the topic is all."

"Well, if you were willing to compare yourself to a deformed tomato, then I felt that it was my duty to reassure you."Spain laughed, then winced in pain. "Ow! I'm just kidding, Romano! It wasn't like I had to force myself to reassure you. Hitting me isn't cute at all!"

"Shut up and take it like a man, bastard!" Their little mock scuffle nearly upset the contents on the kitchen table, but it stopped when Spain recaptured Romano's hand and brought it to his lips.

"You are my one and only, Romano," he murmured against it, sending shivers down the other's spine. "By the way, where were you these past few months?'

"I was busy." The reply was rushed and vague.

"With what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Judging by the way Romano was averting his eyes, something big had been going on.

"Please tell me?"

"No."

Why?"

"It's personal."

"Pleeeease?"

"You're annoying!" Spain finally decided to utilize the voice that he reserved for moments when his former charge was being stubborn.

"Romano. Tell me." But even that did not suffice. Therefore, threats were now necessary. "If you don't tell me, I'll call either France of Prussia over right now. Maybe even both." The tactic was starting to take effect. The other nation's eyes widened.

"You wouldn't."

"Then tell me. Or I… I won't help you at all if they decide to harass you," Spain declared. He added in one of his smiles from his conquistador days for good measure.

"F-Fine! I'll tell you. Just don't smile like that again, it makes you seem almost menacing." Romano sighed and slumped back into his seat. He looked to the side. "I was… considering dissolving." His companion was aghast.

"Why would you even think about something like that?"

"Why not?" the other shot back. "Veneciano is practically the face of Italy now. Nobody cares about me!"

"That isn't true," Spain stated quietly. "I care about you."

"Sorry to break it to you, Spain, but not everybody has that same mentality. Not everybody gives a damn about who South Italy is."

"Do you need everybody to, though?"

"That would be nice, yes," Romano said sarcastically. Then he let out a shaky breath. His eyes were dull and bitter. "Sometimes, when I walk through Veneciano's place, the people don't even know who I am. Do you know what that feels like? Having the citizens of your own country fail to recognize you? That's why I was considering dissolving." He suddenly seemed wistful. "Then I wouldn't have to deal with all of this and I could see Grandpa again. Even if he did like Veneciano more."

"But don't you think it's a little selfish to dissolve? What about the people who do care for you, like your brother and I?" Spain asked gently. Romano appeared to contemplate this. However, he muttered,

"What difference does it make? I've been selfish all my life."

"Don't think like that—"

"I came here tonight to decide," Romano interjected. "If you chose Veneciano over me, then I would definitely have done it."

"But I chose you. So what now?"

"… I don't know." They were both silent. All of a sudden, Spain stood up.

"So it's settled! You won't be dissolving," he said cheerfully.

"What? I didn't say anything yet!"

"Listen, Romano. You've seen me at my best and worst times and I've seen you at yours. If I can find the strength to keep on existing, then shouldn't you?" The other nation paused for a moment. He already knew that the notion was not going to be put into fruition. Perhaps it had never even been a possibility.

"… Tch. As if you're a good role model to look up to," he finally scoffed. The way that he was trying to keep from smiling revealed his ultimate decision. Spain grinned beatifically. He suddenly swept Romano into his arms and dramatically dipped him backwards.

"Now that that's over," he whispered huskily into the other man's ear, "how about if we focus on something else?" Romano slapped at him.

"Pervert! I just poured out my heart to you and all you can think of is getting me into your bed!"

But he didn't seem quite as unwilling when they reached Spain's bedroom.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who won/ participated/ reviewed/ read the fic/ all of the above!


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